Looking Glass
by sillysunshowers
Summary: Their first meeting was by chance. Although she was never innocent, he still terrified her. But slowly, she began to realise the disparity between the facade he sought to project and what truly lied underneath. And she was drawn to the mystery. ItachixOC


_**A/N:**_ this came into my head one day so i just wrote it down - i don't know if i will continue with it at all (i'm procrastinating with my other story). i love itachi but all the present stories about him seem to almost always involve sakura and i hate sakura. this is why i decided to invent an OC. hopefully she's not a mary sue, but it could very well be the case...

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_**Looking Glass**_

_By: sillysunshowers_

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**.: Chapter 1 – Demonic :.**

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Raindrops beat on the window pane in a soft never-ending rhythm of pitter-patter pitter-patter. Slender fingers drummed the off-white window sill absently as dark blue eyes stared out into the blurring curtain of rain, focusing on nothing. There was no light; just an overcast of greyness - the remnants of sunlight after it was filtered through the storm clouds hovering menacingly over the town. Right at that very moment, the whole world smelled damp, bleak and monotonous, just like the rain which assaulted it.

Instantaneously, drumming fingers stilled at the first sounds echoing above the flat raindrops. Like a well-trained guard dog alert at even the slightest whispers of mice steps, the shrilly rings of the telephone monopolised her senses.

The phone was picked up before it could ring for a second time.

"Yes?"

"There's someone here to see you, Ms. Inoue. Shall I send him up?"

"Yes. Send him up, thank you."

"Very well, Miss. Goodbye."

The click on the end of the line signalled for her to replace her own receiver.

Smoothly, 'Ms. Inoue' slid from her sidelong perch on the chair and stood up, leaning against the window while facing the door expectantly.

Any moment now.

The glass felt cool against her back. Like a slow and agonizing cancer, the cold had seeped in through her modest cloak and slowly spread outwards across her back from where her body connected with the pane.

Briefly, the girl wondered if the receptionist thought she was a whore: meeting strange men in private isolated rooms at discrete inns. How very wrong she would be.

The blue-haired woman didn't have to wait long.

Within a few moments, a carefully calculated knock sounded from the door, before, hesitant at her lack of answer, the old brass handle twisted slowly and the door creaked open. Cautiously, a set of common brown eyes peered around the frame, anxiously sweeping the room for dangers, but taking in only the most humble and utmost ordinary, bordering on dull, of surroundings. A mostly forgettable face, his most prominent feature was the long deep scar running jagged diagonally across his face. It was then that those eyes fell onto her prone figure, arms crossed while waiting silently for him.

"Inoue Sayuri?"

"Who else?" she replied with a half-smile.

Brown eyes widened as they took in this revelation. He scanned her appearance in shock.

_Fucking hell. She's just a girl._

The young woman in question almost snorted.

Honestly. What had he expected?

That she'd be a monster? A blood-thirsty maniac with sharp eyes and even sharper knives? That she'd slaughter him from head to toe? In one fell flick of blade, severing his legs from his torso, slicing through his vital organs and splitting his skull as if it were all made of butter, spraying a deadly detailed stroke of blood onto the blank walls?

Hardly.

Unless he provoked her, then maybe.

By then, the shock on the brown-haired man's face had melted into a barely contained smirk. 'Sayuri' knew exactly what he was thinking. _"Little girl,"_ he probably was laughing inwardly, _"You're _way_ out of your league here."_

"Well, I know that's just an alias. Your kind would never leave real names with the receptionists," he declared arrogantly, all traces of any initial fear had long gone. "But it'll have to do for now."

'Sayuri' frowned.

She hated it when people judged her, like the man was doing right now. If he was going to be stupid enough to underestimate potentially dangerous strangers based solely on outward appearance, then he didn't deserve her respect. He can continue repeating this same stupidity until one day the poor naïve bastard actually offends someone he shouldn't have and end up with his entrails wrapped around his neck. In fact, she'd rather like to do that herself if it wasn't for the effort of cleaning up and disposing of the body.

Arsehole.

"I come with instructions," the newcomer flashed his yellowing teeth, suddenly exuding an influx of confidence.

However, 'Sayrui' noted with amusement that his voice was croaky – like he had just smoked half a packet of cigarettes to calm his nerves before arriving on her doorstep.

"Boss wanted me to deliver it in person." He swelled with pride at the fact that he was that trusted person.

The kunoichi refused to indulge his ego. Instead, she purposefully made a bored gesture with her hand, signalling for him to continue, while all the while keeping a sly eye on his face for any reaction.

'Sayuri' was pleased to see the man's grin twist and die on itself.

Meanwhile, the man boiled with indignation. Didn't the little bitch understand the privilege…no, the _honour, _it was to become one of the most trusted subordinates to _the _Boss Matsumoto himself?

She obviously wasn't around here. Otherwise, she'd know who he was. He had never been treated so nonchalantly and irreverently in his life! All the locals knew who he was and who Boss Matsumoto was and knew that messing with either of them meant certain death.

_Stupid out-of-towner_, he glared. _Besides, she doesn't even look like a fucking ninja._

No _real _mercenary could be so slender and have such unblemished skin completely devoid of scaring. And yet, here was this skinny delicate girl, probably still in her late teens, who looked like the hardest work they've ever done was ask the maid to clean their rooms. So where did she get the idea that _she _could treat _him_ that way?

_A pretty little thing, but not too bright._

"Let's just skip the niceties, then, shall we?" the brown-haired man snapped.

He reached into the back pocket of his leather pants and pulled out a sealed scroll, eyes never straying from the personification of insolence lounging before him. "Here," the large man held it out to her.

Instead of taking it like any normal and sane person who cherished their life would do, this…_porcelain princess_ hardly even acknowledged him. Instead, the young nin picked a few stray flints off the sleeve of her cloak.

_Bitch,_ the man seethed. _I hope you get raped._

For the first time in a long time, the gangster questioned his employer's decision. Can this flimsy whore actually do _anything_ apart from lifting her skirt and bending over? Honestly, was Boss actually serious when he hired her? Or was he thinking of his dick again?

Probably the latter.

But at least he could have picked a slut with manners.

'Sayuri' discretely glanced slyly at the larger man, watching his reaction to her treatment of him. Her blue eyes danced with mirth.

As soon as she saw him, she knew he would be one of those pompous arrogant jackasses who thrived on his own intimidation to feed his ego. But she could see right through this man – he was just another pussycat hiding behind a mask of a lion. He was probably the type to spend his nights boasting, at every opportunity at the local pub, false or grossly exaggerated tales of how he fought this guy, and fucked that girl, and committed those deeds, etc. But at the first sign of danger, he'd probably be first to turn tail and run home to his mummy. She even bet that the scar was self-inflicted for show too.

'Sayuri' quickly looked down again. She was pleased to see that the man seemed to be seething bright red.

"Well?" the dull idiot barked impatiently, hand still outstretched clutching the scroll.

The blue-haired kunoichi didn't bother looking at him, though she was sure his face would have been priceless. Instead, she snatched the scroll from his clutch with one quick smooth movement.

"Thanks," she said dismissively.

'Sayuri' sneaked another glance at his face.

Well. Apparently there was a shade even redder than red.

"Are you always like this with your clients?" the man snarled.

"Pardon me. Did you say something?" she replied in the perfect mask of innocence.

The man seemed to want to speak. He had opened his mouth like a dead fish long enough to utter one incomplete syllable, before seeming to think the better of it and shut his mouth again. It seemed miracles do happen.

The blue-haired nin cocked an eyebrow at his silence. "Well…seems like we're done here."

The scarred thug froze and looked at her in disbelief.

Wait. Was he hearing correctly, but did she just _dismiss _him? _Him?_

Only Boss was ever allowed to dismiss him – because Boss was his boss. Besides, disrespect to Boss Matsumoto meant certain death – he could envision his severed head rotting away on the ground amongst dirt and maggots and rotten garbage.

So, how dare _she_ treat him as if he were a mere nuisance – an annoying fly she could swat away without another thought?

"No we're not fucking done. I have more to say to you."

The girl just nodded. "Alright."

"This is not a simple mission, girl," he barked, brown eyes narrowing a fraction. "So don't fucking overestimate yourself."

"I won't," came the succinct reply.

"I'm being fucking serious. Boss expects his rivals to hire their own people."

"Hmm."

The larger man's jaw spun tighter.

"If they go after you or if you get caught, you on your own. No help coming. No police involved. Just a cosy setup of you and Kumara's underlings. You catch my drift?"

"Thanks for the warning," she said, a hint of sarcasm slipping through her innocent. "I already know the perils associated with my work."

The man straightened up to his full imposing height. "You're lucky I'm here on official business."

Suddenly, she was the picture of innocence again. "Why?" 'Sayuri' cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive child. "What other business would you be here on?"

The girl bit back a chuckle when the brown-haired man seemed to _literally _bite his tongue to hold no doubt an insult back. After all, she was hired by his boss. And no matter how much he put on that scary brute act, it would do not good to insult her as it would be an insult to Boss Matsumoto.

"Look, just don't fuck up, girl. This is an important mission."

"I'm sure I'll have no problem."

Turning away, "We'll see," the scarred gangster finally muttered.

'Sayuri' let out a small smirk at his retreating back, silently laughing at every angry thump his boots made as he stormed towards the door.

Silly rabbit.

"Thanks for delivering the scroll," the blue-haired woman called after him as the door began to close.

No answer, as expected.

But her mirth disappeared as soon as the door slammed. The atmosphere instantly returned bleak and somber. 'Sayuri's' playfulness was instantly ripped away, vanishing into nothingness.

And once again, everything seemed so desolate.

She almost wished that the man, despite his arrogance and contemptuousness, had never left. He at least provided as a temporary distraction from her otherwise colourless world.

_Is it sad,_ 'Sayrui' thought cynically, _that you prefer the company of a complete stranger to spending another minute with yourself?_

Yes, it probably was.

The room now suffocated in its own silence, a bondage broken only by the monotonous drumming of raindrops beating against a cold motel window pane. The dark gloomy grey light, which streamed in from the window, cast a melancholy ambience around the room.

'Sayuri' looked down at the mission-scroll, and blankly read without ever seeing the words.

.

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The moon stained red that night.

They say that blood has been spilt at the sign of a red sun, but apparently the moon can also be stained.

A sharp whistle of a slice.

A muffled thump.

And then blood.

It was over in a fraction of a second. That's less than the time needed to take a single full breath. Less than the time for the heart to make one full beat. Less than the time to blink or even finish a thought before it was all over.

Another nameless, faceless, and now existenceless body dropped to the floor, blood pouring out a perfectly uniform well-executed slash through the throat. Watching mesmerized, the deep seductive crimson pooled around the body, moving in its slow hypnotizing dance across the polished wooden floorboards until it formed a bloody halo around its former vessel.

Slice. Thump. Blood.

'Inoue Sayuri' lived in a blood-stained world of broken records. It was suffocating, yet necessary. After all, this was what defined her existence. Without this, these empty bodies that thudded on the ground before her feet, she'd have no purpose. She would be nothing at all. Just another nameless, faceless body she rendered existenceless with every swish of her blade.

Blue eyes looked up into the mirror across the hall. Staring back at her was a black figure – a barely separate entity from the night time shadows. Dressing all in black, down to black gloves, black wrap mask and even a gleaming black katana, the only thing that distinguished her from the darkness was the dark glints of her blue eyes, watching as she danced to her broken record. Even the blood that sprayed back onto her seems to blend in with her darkness, becoming a part of her consuming shadow.

In a flick of her wrist, 'Sayuri' flicked her dripping weapon behind her to cleanse the blade of the blood. She then lowered her katana to the floor and silently walked onwards down the elegant Japanese corridor, the tip of her blade humming an eerie song as it skimmed along the surface of the floor.

The pitch of the ring, she tried to place it. F sharp? A minor? It suited the night either way.

Suddenly, a soft whistle sounded somewhere close, mingling with her fatal tune. She stopped instantly, ears listening intently for another cue telling her what her eyes couldn't see. Not that she really needed to rely on her hearing; she had felt their chakra signatures long before and only waited to see what instructions they were signaling to each other.

There was a moment of silence, only the rustling of leaves could be heard. A slight breeze swept in from the central garden, swirling around her, tickling the soft black material wrapped around her head. It carried with it the sweet scent of cherry blossoms, masking the smell of blood for only a slight moment.

There. That soft whistle again, only slightly different in pitch and rhythm. A fairly simple code to understand.

Seems like she had been noticed.

Two chakra signatures were now silently creeping her way, looking to investigate the soft weird noises they heard. 'Sayuri' waited patiently where she stood, not bothering to hide or assume an ambush position. There was really no point. Instead, she kept her eyes trained to the end of the corridor, where it ended in a T-shaped bend.

Before long, two black figures slithered around the corner – one tall and one medium height – before stopping dead in their tracks. The assassin could only imagine what those two poor guards thought when they saw her.

A black shadow bathed in streaks of moonlight, though it was to no effect as the figure seems to consume any light that touched her. Only the glowing black katana and two gleaming blue eyes, like the predatory stare of a cat, could be seen from the darkness. Around the figure, the soft moonshine illuminated a most devastating scene of carnage. The entire corridor was littered with dead bodies strew hazardously around – the fallen faces of their comrades: slumped over in the centre, fallen to the side, and cramped into the corner. Their positions told that they never had a chance, and probably didn't even saw their own deaths coming.

And there was so much blood. It drowned the floor like the flood of crimson of the Ten Plagues of Egypt. It painted the delicate Japanese paper screens with additional streaks of red, some a perfect line, others a pattern of splotches or sprays.

For a moment, nobody moved. The pounding hearts and staccato breaths were almost perceptible to even the untrained ear. But then, the figure moved her gleaming katana, reflecting the moonlight back into their eyes, half blinding them from the sudden transition of darkness to a bright light. It was that that signalled them into action.

The shorter of the two suddenly drew his own katana and charged down the hall at her, his footsteps thudding a stead rhythm all the way down. The taller stayed behind, providing the ninjutsu accompaniment to the direct physical attack. His hands quickly ran through the formations, eyes never leaving the intruder. Horse, Ram, Tiger…

But he was too slow. 'Sayuri' saw them as if they were in slow motion, like each formation took a full minute to complete. It was almost laughable how much faster she was.

Without so much as a warning, the intruder disappeared. Instead, she became a blur of black, which ignored and streaked past the charging shinobi, who uttered a sound of surprised, and straight towards the one who stayed behind. Within a millisecond, another streak of blood decorated the walls, followed by two hands, severed in one clean cut at the wrists, fingers still frozen in the formation of Dog.

Slice.

Before the now crippled man could cry out in pain, the black blur materialized behind him, an unflinching grip muffled his mouth, effectively squashing out any sound that could be uttered. And in the next breath, another hand found the side of his head, gripping unmercifully to his skull. With a sickening resounding crack, they twisted the man's neck until it broke.

Thump. Blood.

The body fell to the floor, snuffed of life.

'Sayuri' looked down emotionlessly. It was a scene she'd seen many times before.

The dead man's partner let out a shaking breath, not fully comprehending the events which happened so fast, yet nevertheless resulting in his friend's death. Only hours before, they had been discussing some stupid irrelevant and downright dirty thing that only two bored men at work could hold a conversation about. In fact, the two of them had made a pact to get blinding drunk at the bar afterwards, before stumbling home to their, no doubt, angry wives and wailing babies with stuttering excuses that their intoxicated state was not their fault.

He never expected this.

The man hardly had any time to reminisce as two cold blue pupils sharply looked up straight at him. It was then that pure panic gripped him, taking over his mind until the only coherent thought left was _Run!_

Which was exactly what he did.

The end of the corridor was only a few steps away. He knew that if he got out, his chance of surviving would increase exponentially, as he knew the layout of the compound like the back of his hand: all the hidden doors, covered panels and secret passageways. He would wait the killer out before running home, quitting his job over the phone, and taking his wife and kids somewhere far far away from all this death and destruction.

'Sayuri' watched the man turn tail and run. She could understand his cowardice, but there could be no witnesses to identify her. She let him run a little more to let him enjoy his blinding hope for a just a little longer. She was not, however, playing with her kill as any outsider might interpret.

But soon, in the swish of a black blur, the end of a knife stabbed through the man's torso in an almost silent movement. Only the soft dying gasp of incomprehensible pain accompanied it.

For a moment, he couldn't move at all. Whether it was due to pain or shock, he didn't know. The man slowly looked down at his killer's katana protruding from his chest, noting how the steel was covered in his own thick blood, unable to realize what had just happened. As he gurgled crimson and his consciousness slipped out from him, he wondered if this was all a bad dream.

The blue-haired mercenary retracted her katana, and flicked her black blade clean again, ignoring the body as it slumped to the ground. She quickly scanned the compound, sensing out further chakra signatures. There were none in the vicinity of where she was and where she wanted to go. The ones she could sense would not pose any problems. Good. She'll just grab the bejewelled sword and get the fuck out of there.

This assignment was getting extraordinarily tiresome.

If only she wasn't to be paid so well, 'Sayuri' would have gotten a good sleep that night instead of committing murder in a darkened hallway.

The masked mercenary slid her katana back into the sheath strapped to her back and continued on her way, the soft soles of her shoes making no noise as it touched the floor. According to her sources, the priceless artifact was secured in a hidden safe in a secret room which could only be entered through the study. And the study in question, from her memory of the layout of this mansion, would be just around the corner. She'll have to find the entrance to it once she gets there.

Now, where would an unoriginal man hide the door to a hidden room? Probably behind the bookcase, or a hidden panel in the walls, or something equally unimaginative and plagiarised from an old detective movie.

Smoothly, the intruder slipped silently in the half open door on her right, the door to the study. The first thing she did was throw three shurikens in three separate directions to disable the cameras she knew were there having memorised the blueprint of the compound's security features.

And then the blue-haired nin stopped dead in her tracks.

In front of her, a set of retractable stairs descended from a hidden panel in the ceiling, leading to a dark room emanating the dull orange glow of low lamps. All the security features and laser locks which should have protected this discovery had already long since been disabled.

'Sayuri's' jaws tightened.

She was _beaten_. Shit.

Nevertheless, she wanted to be thorough.

The contracted thief and killer ascended the stairs, a gloved hand resting on the hilt of her katana just in case. As her view ascended into the next room, she paused. It was murky and dark, save for a dim lamp at one end, and the soft moonlight streaming through a small thin window high up on the right wall. The treasure room, although covered top to bottom with jewels, valuables, expensive weaponry and priceless artefacts, was completely devoid of any living being. At the far end of the dimly lit room was a priceless renaissance painting, which someone had taken off its hanger and laid carefully on the ground. The reason for this was to expose the large steel safe hidden perfectly behind it.

_Of course_, she almost snorted. The old safe-behind-a-painting ploy. _Kumara's imagination had to run out at some point._

Like the rest of the security, the safe had already been cracked open. From her vantage point by the stairs, the lock did not appear to be tampered with at all. Whoever did this _had_ to be an expert of some sort.

But most importantly, her assessment of the safe told her that sword – the artifact she was sent to here retrieve – had already been taken.

'Sayuri' wanted to kick herself.

She couldn't figure it out. Unless her rival thief had invented a jutsu for teleportation, she couldn't see how they could have escaped her careful, bordering on compulsive, surveillance of the residence leading up to this night.

Already having watched the compound for many days now, 'Sayuri' had been circling the area since noon, waiting for the perfect moment of when the guards were bored, sleepy and their vigilances relaxed, before striking. Kumara would have caused an absolute uproar if the blade had gone missing at an earlier time, and given the lack of commotion on the Kumara estate, it was safe to deduce that the heirloom had been taken sometime during this evening. From under her watchful gaze.

She never saw it coming.

Everyone who entered or left Kumara's home had been people she had seen there before or knew were close associates of the crime lord. There were no new faces.

Internal job? Maybe. But she doubted it.

Boss Kumara was a paranoid man who rarely let unfamiliar faces enter into his private residence. Usually, his employees would have been with him for years before they were allowed to set foot into his home. Not just anybody could have staged such a perfect heist.

If the thief didn't have inside help, then he or she must be exceptional at his or her art to be able to escape the elaborate security system set up to protect exactly against an occurrence like this. She rarely handed out complements. If she ever met the other thief (or thieves), 'Sayuri' would at least applaud them for the pure prowess exhibited on this job.

And then she'd kill them and take the sword from their dead remains. Charles Darwin painted a cruel world.

Only one problem. Where _was_ this other nin or nins now? She didn't even have the slightest clue who it could have been.

'Sayuri' hadn't failed an assignment for a long long time. Her tongue burned with the bitter tang of failure. She couldn't even accomplish a simple theft…

Her existence was fading…

Suddenly, a shiver shot down her spine.

In a flash, the blue-haired girl unsheathed her katana and sliced it through the air above her head in a movement faster than the eye can detect…just in time to block a kunai.

She looked up immediately. Her heart was pounding with adrenaline.

'Sayuri' saw demon's eyes. Dark red pupils gleamed out from its shadowy cocoon perched against the ceiling. A veil of blackness cast a menacing ambience over the figure. Long silky midnight strands, bunched together in a long ponytail, streamed down in fine threads. It reminded her of the deadly silk strands of cave spiders, waiting to devour anything which fluttered to close to those sticky threads.

The cloaked figure was perched upside down against the ceiling in a supernatural move which could only defy all laws of known gravity and logic, as if he obeyed another set of worldly rules altogether. And from the shadows, a sharp flash gleamed brightly like a lighthouse on a moonless night. It was the lamp light reflecting off the menacing platinum blade, drawing attention to the hand which held it. Long elegant digit wrapped around the bejewelled hilt, poised for action at any moment.

_Huh, _she almost cocked her head at the strange twist of fate. The exact same sword she had been assigned to steal.

She knew that for a fact. Boss Matsumoto had expressly told her that his family's heirloom would bear their crest on the hilt. And it just so happens that she could see the carved crest clutched within long pale fingers.

She hadn't expected to find the sword so quickly. How unexpectedly fortunate.

Despite herself, 'Sayuri' found her eyes travelled on its own accord away from the sword and onto the man behind it. Her gaze followed the elegant lines of the pale hands, and along a steady poised arm, and up a long neck until it reached his features.

She would never be able to forget the red-eyed man's face.

There were no words to describe it adequately. His features were a contradiction: strong, sharp and defined, yet smooth, soft and delicate, ending in a set of pale impassive lips. It was beautiful, and yet dead, like the face of a cold porcelain doll. But it was those ineffably hypnotic red eyes that monopolized her attention.

They glowed as if they had a life of their own, becoming brighter and then dimmer in a strange continuum, mesmerizing her with their playful dance. Three black tomoes within those ruby reds formed a dangerously seductive pattern, as they completed the atmosphere of danger and beauty that hummed from those eyes.

Eyelids suddenly fluttered closed. His long lashes contrasted softly against his skin. When the man opened it again, those red irises had changed into a beguiling pinwheel pattern. And then they started to spin. Faster and faster, until they became a rotating circle of black in a sea of red…

All she could see, or even think about, was the lull of black and crimson…

The world was becoming paler in significance to those eyes…

…

_No!_ her mind suddenly screamed, pulling her sharply back to reality.

With all her willpower, 'Sayuri' tore her gaze from the man's hypnotic eyes before she fell deeper into his trap. She knew how to spot a _genjutsu_ when she saw one. She was far too trained and experienced not to. There was little doubt that any longer, and the illusion would have trapped her indefinitely within its invisible bars, under its intangible locks and out of reach of all plausible help.

Not sparing a moment to allow him to launch another _genjutsu_, the blue-haired mercenary expertly sliced her blade through the air directly at his throat the same way she had to so many others.

However, he seemed to read her movements before she had even finished deciding them. A small smirk appeared on the demon-man's lips as he retaliated just as swiftly and precisely. Her black katana met a sheet of platinum with a high-pitched shriek as the two blades struggled for dominance.

Fuck he was strong.

'Sayuri' gritted her teeth as she struggled to hold on, refusing to let her weapon give way to almost certain death. An unworldly mass of strength was bearing down against her weapon, forcing her arm muscles to tremble against her will. Slowly by slowly, the offending blade inched closer. She started to find herself on the losing end of their struggle.

She spared a glance at her raven-haired enemy. The man's strange red eyes were luminous but completely cold and unreadable, his face was once again desolate and devoid of any expression. If she weren't so occupied, the young mercenary would have definitely noticed the barely perceptible condescending smirk that danced on his normally impassive lips.

'Sayuri's arm muscles screamed at her. He was far too strong. He was probably just testing her out.

Changing tactic, 'Sayuri' abruptly leapt away to surprise her rival with her sudden retraction. She catapulted herself towards the wall, in order to use it as a platform to launch herself off. In a flick of her wrist, the girl sent two shruikens at the other nin, hoping it would give her the advantage of his preoccupation for when she counterattacked.

But he was gone in the next breath she looked his way.

Heart hammering, her foot had barely grazed the stone surface when the red-eyed man unexpectedly materialized directly above her, his eyes in a perfect line of sight to her own. The intangible instant in which, while still suspended in mid air, their eyes met seemed to stretch an eternity beyond how long it existed in reality. It was like someone had pushed the slow-motion button on their scene.

His eyes. They were just so…consuming. It was difficult to look away.

Shocked, 'Sayuri' immediately did a _replacement jutsu_ to avoid the singing length of his blade, which missed her face by a mere hair's-breadth. She felt the wind get harshly knocked out of her as her back struck the hard floor. The sickening sound of her bones colliding with the stony tiles roared in her ear, and she swore she saw stars.

There would be one hell of a bruise on her back come tomorrow. The young woman scowled internally. _If she lived that long._

Who _was_ this man? Or _what_?

Not even able to complete her chaotic thoughts, the young killer threw herself to the left on pure instinct. And within barely a millisecond, the sharp length of a blade embedded itself a few unmerciful centimetres from her right ear. The stone tile it struck shattered into a cloud of dust and debris.

That could have been her head.

Unwillingly, 'Sayuri' felt her eyes look up into the face of the demon standing over her. And once again, his gaze was unimaginably blank. It caused a chill to seep into her spine. This man. He was inhuman.

Not admitting defeat, 'Sayuri' sharply kicked at the hand that gripped the hilt of the platinum sword, forcing the man to retreat a step, unprepared for her move. Grasping her opportunity, the blue-haired mercenary performed a backward leap and back onto her feet, landing a few safe feet away from him.

The black-haired missing-nin remained impassively silent, paralyzing her with the intensity of his strange blood-patterned eyes. He gracefully reached for the sword in what could only be described as in a ghostly and inhuman manner. The air hummed with the intensity of his power. His chakra felt…stiflingly abnormal.

The man gave her a low smirk. His bloody spinning eyes glowed from the shadowy darkness of his features. The gesture both surprised her and terrified her. In the dim lighting, he looked…demonic.

Abruptly, the man sharply retreated backwards, disappearing into the forest of darkness behind him; the priceless jewel and precious metal ladened sword safely within his grasp. Suddenly, she was alone in the dim lighting, barely restraining her shivers.

_Fuck_.

Wide ocean-blue eyes darted around the room looking for any signs of movement.

_Where the fuck is he?_

She wasn't alone. Not really.

Though he was nowhere to be seen, she could _feel_ him. She could sense that his presence was still there, lurking in the darkness, circling her like a beast would circle its prey before the kill. But she couldn't pinpoint his location. He felt nowhere yet everywhere all at once.

The menacing omnipresence of the devil.

'Sayuri' bravely raised her katana in front of her, anticipating his eventual attack. But anyone who looked closer would be able to see the tremors which disquieted her usually steady hand.

It's been a long time since she was so vulnerable.

There was a moment of silence and stifling tension. Her heartbeat boomed like thunder while her shaky breaths sounded louder than gale-force winds. Her overworked hearing kept detecting strange noises echoing from all around her, sounds which otherwise would be drowned out by the strange ringing pulsating and growing in her ear.

A creak here. A shuffle there.

She knew he was there, toying with her and enjoying the panic it induced. The suspense – it would literally kill her.

_There!_

She spun around immediately. She could have sworn she caught the sweeping ends of his coat in the reflection of a glass case. _Behind her!_

'Sayuri' pivoted around again, blade raised and ready to defend her life.

But saw nothing.

Katana still raised, 'Sayrui' let out a shaky breath. Her heart couldn't handle the stress any more. She wanted out.

Then out of the corner of her eyes, she saw his face. Half jumping, the young woman turned sharply to her left and found herself trapped in his dangerous gaze. It took a full moment for her to realise it was merely a reflection on a shiny vase, and not the demon himself.

'Sayuri' spun around, ready to face the red-eyed killer. But when she turned around, he still wasn't there. Instead, she found herself staring into another set of reflected crimson-red pinwheels, whispering that it will engulf her whole if she continued staring into it.

To her right, she spotted another pair of spinning eyes. The masked-mercenary sharply breathed in.

_What the fuck was going on?_

She frantically looked around.

_They were everywhere._

The more she looked, the more she noticed his eyes staring back at her, his impassive faces mocking her terror. Soon, the demon was staring coldly out at her from every single reflective surface in the room.

He was everywhere. Everywhere she looked, 'Sayuri' couldn't get away from that gaze. She tried to run, but his face just followed her. His lips silently mouthed the words: 'you will die tonight'.

_Help me,_ she pleaded. _Please._

She was drowning in those blood-stained eyes. They assaulted her and consumed her, tearing at her soul until not even tatters of her remained in the aftermath.

'Sayuri' barely registered how much her chest stung as her heart pounded mercilessly against her ribcage, trying desperately to escape the terrifying scene.

This was a nightmare. It had to be. This was not possible. _He _was not possible.

Unless, was she in hell? Was this a demon wrapped in angel's skin coming to torment her? Was this Lucifer himself? Coming to tell her that her time on earth had ended, and that she was subjected to an eternity of punishment sentenced for all the senseless murders and nonchalant crimes she had committed in her life?

Those multiple beautiful but terrifying faces and multiple seductively dangerous eyes pierced through her, eating away at her heart. In disturbing unison, every single one of those figures slowly raised their sword, pointing it at her as if telling her that she's next. In a cruel twist of irony, she once again noticed that the swords they held were still the same heirloom that she had been sent to steal in the first place.

Now it would be the weapon that ended her life.

Like an army of phantoms, the identical red-eyed killers stepped softly towards her, swords poised in exactly the same position. Pale faces, piercing blood gazes and flowing midnight hair floated towards her in disturbing calmness. The cold expressionless face chilled her to the core. 'Sayuri' felt so numb from her emotions that she felt like she was watching someone else's demise – the end of someone else's life – but not her own.

It was like a kaleidoscope of death. And she was watching stoically on the other end.

In a sudden amassed movement, the demons halted in their steps at the exact moment. A low cold-blooded smirk ripped across all their lips and their faces darkened a shade, causing those demonic eyes to burn all the more vividly.

Red and black pinwheels.

It would be the last thing she ever saw.

In the next breath, they all flew at her in a lightening blur of black crows. Hundreds of platinum-bladed tips shot forward towards her, aiming for her body, her head and her heart.

The last thing she remembered before the world turned black, was the feeling of multiple blades piercing her; slicing into her flesh and ripping through her veins, sprayed a geyser of thick crimson blood to flood the cold stone floor beneath her dead body.

.

.

When she came to consciousness, the sky had already lightened to a grey-blue. According to the forecast, it would be the day that finally broke from the records of dull monotonous weather that reigned the past week and a half.

'Sayuri' reached up to rub her tired eyes and run a hand through her hair in frustration. It was then she realized that something was missing. Her black face mask, which normally wrapped around her head and covering her nose and mouth to expose only her eyes, had been removed at some point in her absence of consciousness, revealing her distinctive features for all to see. It was, instead, folded neatly beside her; her onyx katana, now sheathed, carefully placed on top.

'Sayuri' quickly sat up immediately, ignoring the sudden aching pain she felt in her head. She quickly looked around.

There was no sign of the mysterious terrifying blood-eyed man anywhere, nor was the priceless platinum-bladed heirloom in sight.

Then suddenly the young blue-haired woman thought of something. Her eyes shot downwards as her hands roamed over her body, searching for the numerous stab wounds she suffered last night at the hands of her angel-faced murderer.

But she found none. Not anywhere was her black stealth clothing ripped or pierced, let alone the body they protected. In fact, not even her back was bruised, despite her heavy collision with the ground last night. The stone floor remained the same cold grey as it did in the moonlight, still unstained from smears of her blood. As for the reflective surfaces of glass and valuables, they were no longer exhibiting the ghoulish army of intense red eyes and soft smirks.

Other than the opened safe, there was nothing to suggest the raven-haired man's presence at all.

Shit.

He had used a double illusion on her. Perhaps even more.

She had no idea when she first became trapped in its grips. Maybe it was when she looked into his eyes during their power-struggle with the sword, or when she was forced to the floor and he stood over her. Maybe it was even as early as when she first ascended into the room – the young woman had once heard that her raven-haired opponent could cast _genjutsu_ by just pointing at his victim.

Either way, there was at least the initial illusion which first trapped her, and then another one which was designed to trick her into believing she broke out of the first one. It was such a rarity to hear, let alone see first hand, such intricate multi-layered _genjutsu _used with such efficiency, and effortlessly one after another .

But then again, given the S-class missing nin's reputation, she wouldn't have expected anything less from him. 'Sayuri' had recognized the notorious red cloud patterned cloak, scratched Konoha hitai-ate and feared Sharingan eyes immediately when she saw them. It seemed that the sword she required for the completion of her mission now rested in the hands of one Uchiha Itachi – one of the most infamously dangerous criminals in the whole world.

.


End file.
